Romans & histoires What To Ask On Second Date

Rugs delivered, everything else loaded up. “So,” he says as we drive, “where to?” “Back to my sister’s house,” I say, frowning a little. “You sure?” “Yeah, I’m sure.” “Okay, but we need a second date. Next Saturday?” “Okay,” I say. “Am I picking, or are you?” “You pick.” “Alright. I’ll make it nice.” He smiles. “You don’t have a boyfriend or anything, right?” “Nope. What about you?”

I am going on a date. To be continued...

It felt sort of weird that she had lived with me for two months, and this was our first date. A date was the beginning of getting to know the person you were interested in. Not that I gave a fuck about that anyway. I already knew her so well. So it was better to ask her about something different. Something she had never talked about before. "So, Mia. I figured we've know ourselves for over two months and I don't know much about you. You haven't mentioned your parents any day." I said, with my hand still wrapped around my wine glass as I stared at her with caution.

"From the sound of it the two guys you are meeting tonight are severely hot." "I wouldn't know." I shrugged. "You don't even know what your date looks like? Do you even know his name?" She almost yelled incredulously. I guess it never really occurred to me to ask Hannah. I've rarely ever asked with the other guys so why now? "It doesn't really matter anyways." "What! It so does matter!" Thankfully at the moment no one was in the shop or Rina's yelling would have caused a scene.

“Besides, I thought this was a date not an interrogation session.” His brows knitted together as his lips turned down in a frown. “Isn't that what dates are about?” He looked genuinely confused it was so funny I had to swallow down my laughter. “Enzo said, you should ask your date questions while on a date, and get to know more about them?” I couldn't stop the loud snort that escaped even if I tried. Luckily, I didn't have any wine in my mouth. “You're telling me you haven't been on a date before? You're like sixty—”

"Why not? I think I deserve one too." We placed our orders and sipped on our drinks, transforming our date into more of a casual gossip session. He shared details about his pack, and I reciprocated by revealing tidbits about mine. Surprisingly, what started as an unexpected turn of events evolved into a surprisingly enjoyable and light-hearted conversation. As we prepared to leave, he posed a question that caught me off guard. "Do you think we could have two more dates like this one?" Confusion creased my brow. I had made it explicitly clear that I wasn't interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with him. Why was he bringing this up again?

" She asked me with a smile. She looked so excited. "It was okay... We had a nice meal and we spoke a little." I said. "Then why are you back so early?" She said to me. "Well it didn't go great but it was okay." I said. "So is there going to be a second date here?" She asked me. "I don't know... I don't think so." I said. "Bella talk to me, what happened? Is he no longer interested in you? What's going on?" She asked me.

I was poking at my eyelashes with the mascara wand again just as Conor knocked and opened the front door. “Chloe?” The door shut again. “Two seconds.” Shit. What does one even do on a second first date? Is this even a first date? He said he wanted to talk. Is it a talking date? A friend date? A parent date? A romantic date? Good grief. I pushed his baby out of my vagina and I was worrying about going for dinner with him. I also fucked him two days ago, for the second time in just under three weeks, so I think we can safely say this isn’t a friend or parent date.

Now, on our second date, it seemed the roles had flipped. “Of course, shoot. I don’t mind,” I said warmly. He smiled again. But this time, it wasn’t playful. It was deliberate and measured. “What do you think of me?” he asked. The question landed without warning. I blinked. To be honest, at first, I didn’t fully understand what he meant. My mind tried to parse it. Was he asking what I thought of him professionally? As a person? I got momentarily lost trying to figure it out.

He knew how to do that and how to put himself in a position where he wouldn't be questioned. “If I invite you on a second date, will you be available?” he finally asked, downing the drink in his cup as he relaxed against the chair. His gaze shifted to the plates on the table. He must have realized how piercing it was and how it made me unable to process an answer to his question. “When would that be?” I asked, trying to avoid the question, but he caught that. “Will you be interested in going on a second date with me?” he rephrased the question, and I knew there was no escaping this one.